Reflection
by romanceatheart2011
Summary: Rewritten chapters posted Athos, Porthos and Aramis have always been there for D'artagnan to help and support him, even at times when he believed he didn't need them. Over time though, D'artagnan has come to call Paris home. Three memories remind D'artagnan just how much he means to his friends, and where he stands with them.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alexander Dumas' characters, and I make no profit from this story.**

**AN: Hey everybody, this is one of my first short stories that I'm going to be practicing writing before I get started on my Dragon series. For those of you out there who have a problem reading attempted rape, or foul language of any kind, then you shouldn't be reading this story. Enjoy, and I'll have marked the attempted rape scene.**  
_

Chapter 1: Almost

The cool winds of the early evening were a great relief from the unbearable heat that Paris suffered only a few hours earlier, and the citizens were taking advantage of the welcomed change in temperature. Children played games like hopscotch and hide-and-seek with their parents watching or with their own hand-made toys outside. Men either sat outside reading, playing chess or cards, or simply chatting with one another with a bottle of wine. Women took advantage of the welcoming coolness as well by doing normal indoor chores outside, playing with their children, or drinking tea with one another out in their yards.

The regular citizens weren't the only ones who were thankful for the departure of the heat. The musketeers and the Cardinal's guards flooded the taverns and bars for a much needed drink after a long day of rounds and guard duty in the merciless sun. They were enjoying the blessed relief too much to get into the familiar brawls with one another, which both surprised and pleased the tavern and bar owners and customers. The rest of the evening, to the customers and owners happiness, was spent with the musketeers and the Cardinal's guards keeping to their own group, only swapping the occasional hate filled glance at one another every now and then but not acting upon it.

One musketeer -in training though he may be- was eager to enjoy as much of the cooler temperature as possible before he had to wake up on the morrow to another uncomfortably hot day.

D'artagnan stretched slightly, sighing in relief with he felt a couple of joints pop into place, and laid back against the roof of his shared apartment, his folded cloak acting as a pillow. He breathed in the sharp air and smiled as the familiar smells assaulted his senses; earth and rain from the plant life around the courtyard that his apartment sat in, the delicious smells of Planchet's cooking wafting up through the open window, the smell of pine smoke from the chimney, the faint aroma of pastries and cakes being made from the bakery just down the road from them, tobacco smoke from the pipes his neighbors were smoking, and the overall fresh smell of nature and sky.

Breathing in these smells and fully relaxing against the roof, D'artagnan closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift away into his memories.

It had been exactly three months since D'artagnan had first barreled, quite literally in Athos and Porthos' cases, into the lives of the three musketeers, and since then he had wormed his way very deeply into their hearts. D'artagnan knew that his friends would deny this even under the most grueling interrogation though, but it made him happy all the same that his friends would save their stronger feelings regarding him in private just for him to see. Multiple times since he began living with the three men they had showed the depth of what their friendship with him meant, and it filled D'artagnan with warmth that he was able to find a different kind of family to ease his homesickness for his parents.

Three specific incidents stood out to him in his mind and he smiled as the memories drifted to the front of his mind one at a time.  
_

_It was two weeks after the diamond retrieval mission, and D'artagnan had earned his place in the musketeer corps as a trainee thanks to Louis XIII reinstating the musketeers corps and praises from not only his friends, but from Captain Treville as well. _

_Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were a little worried about the boy since this entitled him to go on missions not only with other musketeers that he didn't know, but by himself as well though it would only be into the next village or city over._

_The upside was that he was also able to go on whatever missions with the other three if they requested for him, which was all the time._

_Right now, Porthos and D'artagnan were sent to the ports to follow up on rumors about possible pirates threatening to attack France's coast towns. _

_Since only Athos, Aramis, D'artagnan, and Captain Treville knew of Porthos' past life as a pirate, he was the clear and only choice musketeer to handle issues concerning piracy. D'artagnan was only too eager to go with him. _

"_As close as I have lived near the ocean all my life I have never actually seen it before our trip to England for the diamonds." This surprised the other three men who knew how adventurous the boy was, but none of them commented on it._

_One week after Porthos and D'artagnan had arrived at the ports they had found out that the rumors about possible pirates were in fact true. Through heavy bribery and interrogation, Porthos was able to get the information on where and what time the pirates were meeting to discuss their plans on pillaging one of the nearby villages._

_D'artagnan was more than a little bit angry when Porthos told him that only he was going to be confronting the pirates with the port's guards._

"_These men have nothing on the Cardinal's guards, boy," he had said to D'artagnan after he broke the news to him, "they at least have some sort of honor and code that they have to live by, and some form of authority to report to. Pirates live under their own code with no honor involved, and the only masters that they follow are themselves. Killing you would be like killing a woman after they've had their fill of her; with a clear conscience and no form of regret afterwards."_

_Porthos had spoken in such a firm and serious voice that made D'artagnan realize that the man was being haunted by his own memories of when he had been on the other side of the law since he had first been given the mission, and finally finding their targets was bringing those memories forward in full force._

_For the first time, D'artagnan was determined to listen to one of his friends' warnings about staying out of trouble. _

_If only life had really been that easy for him._

_Some of the local juveniles had started a fire nearby from small explosives, and D'artagnan knew that he couldn't just sit in his room. When some help from the local townspeople, the fire was put out and the juveniles were hauled away to be kept in the local prison until their parents or some other form of authority for children could bail them out._

_It was on his way back to the hotel that D'artagnan's luck changed in a hurry. Which brings the present back to the main focus. _

"_Come on boy, is that the best you got for me?!" _

_D'artagnan spit blood out of his mouth as he hatefully glared up at his adversary. _

_He had caught the man and his buddies harassing two women in the alley when he was on his way back from helping put out the fire. _

_He, of course, jumped in to help the women out, but he knew right away that he should have first studied his enemies before running in. He had said to Queen Anne months earlier that he couldn't help being reckless in choosing his battles, and he now wished more than ever that he had some form of self control over himself._

_Without taking a chance to think about his next move, he charged at the much bigger, stronger man with a war cry, his blade held in his hand._

_The man merely stepped to the side and with a hard thrust drove his knee into D'artagnan's midsection, his buddies cheering drunkenly nearby. _

_Gasping for breath, the boy was given no warning as the man dealt a vicious right hook to his cheek and nose, his teething snapping together sharply, his tongue in between. Blood dripping from his mouth and nose as he struggled to breathe, D'artagnan blearily stared up at the man as he tried to regain his wits. _

_With a vicious smirk at the boy at his feet, the older gentleman brought his foot up kicked it harshly at D'artagnan's face. He went down as the fire in his cheek and nose doubled, and his head hit the cold, unforgiving stones below him, but he refused to cry out. _

_Smiling maliciously in victory at the defeated boy, the man picked up D'artagnan's fallen sword and kicked the boy over onto his back. _

"_You feel that whelp?" he said nastily as D'artagnan tried not to breathe in the man's alcohol-laced breath, "that's the feeling of defeat. Of knowing where you really belong in this world; at the feet of the men."_

_His stomach clenching in pain D'artagnan rolled over to glare at the man square in the eye. Without even a second thought, he spit blood at the man's face, a spark of triumph running through him when he hit his mark. It was immediately put out when he saw the raw fury build up in the man's eyes after the blood and saliva had been wiped away._

_With a roar of pure anger the man went into a rage and began to violently and repeatedly kick D'artagnan's ribs and back. Each kick to his already bruised and injured body felt like a hot knife being thrust inside him only to be brutally ripped back out again and shoved back in. _

_Though he was unable to prevent the painful tears from sliding out from under his eyelids, D'artagnan refused to allow any noises of pain to escape his lips which were bleeding as he had bit through the skin clean to stay completely silent. _

_When the man had finally tired of kicking D'artagnan bloody, he jerked the boy's face upwards in a tight grip._

"_You're a very pretty looking lad, boy," the man drawled out, his hidden message received and understood by his men standing nearby, who began to smile salaciously to one another. The man's face broke out into a wide, nasty grin, the pooling lust in his eyes making D'artagnan gulp._

"_Yes," the man continued, "and I believe that you also still need to learn your lesson about messing with the affairs of men where you clearly don't belong. I'm sure that my men would be more than happy to give you a, _thorough_, lesson and punishment."_

_The drunken laughter following this speech made D'artagnan's stomach clench in fear. Porthos and Athos had said months earlier that D'artagnan would be dead by sundown thanks to his impetuousness and recklessness and D'artagnan felt sure that this was possibly that moment._

_His ribs cried out in pain when he was suddenly hauled to his feet by two other men who held his arms tightly. He was sure there were going to be bruises there later. _

_The leader of the group used the hilt of D'artagnan's sword to tilt his chin up._

"_We're going to teach you the consequences of meddling in a man's business little boy," he man sneered with the same nasty smile still on his face, yellowed, crooked teeth showing, "just remember: one word out of you and we'll turn you into a human pin cushion." _

_\D'artagnan didn't even have time to reply or to think before each of the men holding his arms brought their free hands up and harshly pinched his nipples. At the same time, the leader in front of him shot his hand out and roughly cupped him where nobody else but him had touched. _

_His cry of pain and surprise was smothered by a mouth pressing unforgivably against his own. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood the leader thrust his tongue inside D'artagnan's mouth and roughly mapped out the inside. _

_D'artagnan could hear the remaining men laughing drunkenly, lustfully as they watched their leader and buddies molest him with forceful touches and brutal movements. _

_Fighting the urge the throw up from the smell and taste of the man D'artagnan tried to jerk his mouth and body away as much as he could, but the grips on his jaw and arms were as strong as iron. _

_Out of desperation and fear D'artagnan clamped his jaw shut tightly, trapping the man's tongue between his teeth. The taste of iron seeped into his mouth as the man pulled away from him with a roar of anger._

"_You little bastard!" Fire erupted this time on D'artagnan's other cheek as the man punched him once, then a second time in the gut, once again knocking the wind from the boy. "I'll teach you mess with me." _

_D'artagnan's eyes went wide in fear when he looked up and saw the man fumbling with the fastens on his pants, and his mind almost shut down when he felt the two men holding him start to clumsily try to undo his own pants._

"_No! Please don't!" yelled D'artagnan out of desperation, hoping someone out on the street could hear him. The leader looked up at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he finally got his pants undone and D'artagnan's were shoved to his knees. _

"_You're gonna regret that boy."\_

_The man didn't take a step forward before two blades suddenly protruded from his chest and his crotch. D'artagnan and the others watched in horror and fascination as the man fell to the ground in front of them, blood seeping from both his upper and lower body. _

_D'artagnan looked up to see who the man's assailant was and almost cowered against the men holding him. Porthos stood there with his sword drawn in one hand and another knife in the other. His clothes were covered in blood and what looked like body matter was staining the heel of his boots._

_His eyes however were what made D'artagnan shrink away in fear. _

_His eyes had darkened till they were almost pitch- black with fury. Taking in the scene from the dead leader to the two men still holding D'artagnan's roughly handled body his face grew harder when he took in the boy's bloody and swollen lips and undone pants. _

_His dark gaze drifted over each of the men in the alley who shrunk back slightly but kept a firm hold on their swords; obviously they weren't as drunk as they had been acting earlier. D'artagnan's heart jolted with fear; these men were completely sober, and had been ready to watch their boss rape and share a young boy over half their ages with the rest of them._

_As Porthos' gaze swept over towards his direction, his felt the two men holding his arms tighten their grips on him. A small sound of pain escaped him before he had time to stop it and watched Porthos go from seeing red to seeing purple in a split second. He knew that the look wasn't meant for him, but he still couldn't help but swallow in fear at seeing it._

_Gone was the overgrown child, the everyday clown that made D'artagnan laugh till he was in stitches before ten o'clock in the morning, the goofball of the quartet that kept the comedic side of life alive in their home. In his place was a man that looked every bit his age and exactly like the blood stains and body matter portrayed him to be: a monster._

_It was all over in under a minute. The two men holding D'artagnan seemed to vanish into thin air as he saw Porthos take on the rest of the men standing nearby. D'artagnan's knees gave out under him and just as he caught himself, he looked behind him to see both men on the ground with a knife sticking out of their foreheads. He turned around again just in time to see Porthos finishing off the last two men with a quick slice of his sword. _

_D'artagnan gagged at the scene and almost retched when he saw the amount of blood staining Porthos' sword. He quickly did up his pants as Porthos slowed his breathing down and tried to get himself under control. _

_The physical and mental abuse the boy had endured in the last couple of hours from the fire and the men finally caught up with up. As he slipped into the welcoming darkness his last vision was Porthos' worried face.  
__

_When he looked at D'artagnan the boy couldn't help but cringe at the still visible white-hot fury in the man's eyes. Porthos tried to soften his gaze but the adrenaline and rage still coursing through his blood wouldn't let him. _

_Blast it all! He told the boy to stay in the room!_

_The information he had gotten from one of the vic…pirates had been spot on. What the pirate failed to tell Porthos, though, was that not one, but three pirate crews were going to be attending the meeting. Somehow word got back to the pirates about the king's musketeers and the port's guards crashing the meeting, and they were taken by surprise. He and the port's guards had gotten into a vicious tussle with the pirates who didn't back down until every last one of them had either been captured or killed. Three guards were lost in the fight, and four more were critically injured. The job was done though, and taken care of._

_He had made it back to the hotel when one of the servants in the lobby told him that the young man he was rooming with wasn't there. The servant had nearly pissed himself there in front of God and the guests when Porthos lifted him up by the front of his shirt and growled out where D'artagnan's location was. The man stuttered that a fire had broken out further down the street and the young man had flown out of the hotel to help put it out. _

_Porthos had taken off in the boy's direction until he came upon the scene of the fire. After asking a few of the townsfolk who were still cleaning up the mess the fire made about D'artagnan, he headed back to the hotel where they told him they last saw the boy walking in the direction of._

_Porthos was halfway to the hotel when he heard a cry of fear and desperation coming from an alley hidden so well by the shadows that if Porthos hadn't heard the cry he wouldn't have known it was there. The cry sounding so much like D'artagnan's made Porthos' blood turn to ice as he took off into the alley._

_The scene he walked in on unfroze his blood into white fire in a flash, the pounding of his heart so loud in his ears it blocked out the rest of the world. _

_There were at least ten local men in the alley, drunks by the smell of the area, and were laughing like hyenas at something going on in the middle. Two of the men seemed to be holding someone's arms back while the leader of the group beat him. At least that's what it looked like at first._

_Porthos then took a second look at the men and realized that not only were they not drunk, but they were disgustedly aroused as well, and judging from what they were looking at it was obviously at the people in the middle of the alley. Porthos' fist tightened as he prayed that it wasn't who he believed was the middle of those three men. _

_When the leader pulled away Porthos' nightmare came true._

_D'artagnan. His naïve, sweet, innocent friend D'artagnan was held up in front of all these men like a whore waiting to be passed around. His body began to tremble as he took in D'artagnan's flushed face, bruised and bloodied lips, and the rising fear in the boy's eyes. He finally snapped when he saw the men holding his arms each reach around and undo the ties to the boy's pants. _

_With a speed that Aramis himself would be jealous of Porthos had thrown two daggers at the leader's back as he drew his sword and the man had just pulled his pants down. He could only imagine what he looked like to D'artagnan having just come a very bloody battle without washing it away first; the slight hint of fear of looking at him made Porthos wince but he ignored that as he made short work of the rest of the men._

_When he had finally calmed his racing heart and tempered his rage to a smolder he turned to see how D'artagnan fared, but was in shock at seeing the boy slip into unconsciousness. _

_Wasting no time he gathered the boy's sword and his own and practically ran to the hotel with D'artagnan in his arms. He barked at every servant who worked there not to disturb him after he had a maid bring him some water and rags. He cleaned the boy's wounds as best as he could before changing him into some sleep clothes and tucked him into bed. _

_Ordering one of the servants to bring him the biggest and strongest bottle of wine they had he pulled up a chair and sat there watching D'artagnan as he slept through the night.  
__

D'artagnan winced as he remembered the two weeks that had followed that event.

Porthos and him hadn't spoken a single word the entire trip back home, and after Porthos had given his report to Treville. The only response that came from the man was preventing Athos and Aramis from hunting down the men who had attacked D'artagnan after Porthos told them.

D'artagnan had retreated to his bedroom after being fussed after by both Athos and Aramis, but Porthos wouldn't even look at him all night. It hurt D'artagnan but he figured that Porthos was just trying to get a grip on what had happened in the alley.

Two weeks had passed and Porthos still hadn't said a word to him. It drove pain through D'artagnan's heart that Porthos was deliberately ignoring him. Not to mention it hurt that in the nightmares he had been experiencing Porthos had ignored him as well, leaving D'artagnan to the mercy of those men.

It finally took a screaming match between Porthos and the other two to get a decent response out of the man.  
_

"_That's it man! We've both had enough." _

_Porthos looked up to see Aramis' uncharacteristically angry face and Athos' hard, stony glare._

"_What are you ladies going on about now?" he said in what sounded in an uncaring voice, but the hint of defensiveness was there to catch._

"_That boy up there," Aramis pointed up the stairs, "has been suffering nightmares since you brought him home and not once have you checked on him. You of the three of us should be the first person to help ease his mind!" Porthos snorted as he concentrated on the wine in his cup._

"_Why should I? Our beloved Athos has taken up the job without a fuss from the boy." Porthos took a long drink of his wine to try and cover up the bitterness that had seeped into his voice._

"_That's because you haven't spoken a word or even looked at D'artagnan since you came back to Paris," growled Athos, "what could you possibly be thinking that's telling you it's okay to ignore the boy after what happened to him?" Porthos slammed his mug down on the table, the first sign of his anger, the most he had shown in the past two weeks. Planchet could feel the rising tension in the air and made a quick escape upstairs to check on D'artagnan. _

"_You two didn't see the way that boy looked at me," he growled out, the anger and sadness he had been keeping down for the past two weeks finally resurfacing, "after I had finished dealing with those bastards for what they had done to him. He had looked at me with such fear in his eyes, like he expected me to come after him next." _

_There was silence for a little while after that. He half expected Athos and Aramis to leave him to his wine and go back to the boy even though he wished D'artagnan wasn't so afraid of him so he could. What Porthos didn't expect to happen next was Athos grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet. Even though Porthos had a couple of inches and pounds over Athos the man was surprisingly strong._

"_Then quit your damn moping and get your ass up there and comfort the boy," he snapped. Porthos shoved Athos off of him while Aramis caught him and steadied him on his feet._

"_You're doing a fine job of it by yourself; why ask the person who scared the boy to death to go up and hold his hand?" he snarled._

"_D'artagnan is not afraid of you Porthos," said Aramis after he let Athos go, "he was frightened of your temper, not of you. And if you think that by sulking and waiting around for the boy to come to you is going to patch things up think again!" _

_Porthos turned his mounting rage on the former priest. "Then explain this with your infinite wisdom abbe," he spat the word out, "I tried to help D'artagnan with Buttercup's saddle the other night, and you know what he did? He flinched away from me! From me! Like I was going to strike him! What do you say to that?!" _

_Aramis didn't let the venom in Porthos' words to his former occupation bother him as he snapped in return with equal ferocity._

"_He flinches away from everybody these days Porthos. You, me, Athos, even Planchet! He is still getting over what happened to him. And if you would stop being a complete _ass_, he would be healing that much faster!" Only when Aramis was under the most extreme amount of stress or anger did the former priest swear, and boy was he feeling angry right now. _

"_I'll stop being an ass when the kid forgives me for putting him in that kind of danger! And all of us here know that that's not going to happen"_

"STOP IT ALL OF YOU!" 

_The three men turned around to the staircase and they winced on the inside at the state of D'artagnan. His face was pale and sunken, heavy bags from multiple nights lost without sleep forming under his eyes. His lips were chapped and cracked, and there was sweat beading his forehead. There was a blanket tightly wrapped around him and he was shivering._

_His lack of sleep from the past two weeks had gotten him sick not only with fever, but also with a sore throat from all the screaming that he had done. It had hurt the boy to swallow even water. So it came as a surprise to the men that he was able to shout over their voices. _

_D'artagnan coughed violently from having to raise his voice and he was steadied by Planchet who had been behind him since he came down the stairs. The servant handed D'artagnan a cup of water who drank it gratefully despite the pain it caused his throat when he swallowed. _

"_Just stop it," he croaked out. He crossed the room on unsteady feet and grabbed the back of a chair when he stumbled a little bit. "I'm fine," he snapped out when Athos and Aramis moved forward to catch him. He righted himself up and focused the harshest glare he could muster on Porthos._

"_What the hell is your problem?!" he bit out to the surprise of the others, "I've been going out of my mind the past two weeks thinking that you were mad at me because I left the hotel, and here I find out that your wallowing in self pity because you couldn't protect me from those men."_

_None of the other men knew what to say at this point. How could they though? The boy was practically saying that he didn't appreciate what Porthos had done._

"_I am always going to be grateful of the amount of times you three have saved me in the past, and will save me in the future. But you need to realize that you cannot protect me from everything." D'artagnan said this with such firmness that the others opened their mouths to disagree but he interrupted them. "No, listen to me. Yes you three are the best that the king has in his musketeers guard, and my fighting skills have improved dramatically since I started fighting alongside you. But that still won't be enough to protect me from every hard lesson life is going to throw at me. I need you three to be around to soften the blow when I finally get hit with one of those lessons, not out drinking your guilt away because you couldn't stop it from coming in the first place."_

_He looked Porthos square in the eye as he continued, "And you can't keep blaming yourselves afterwards if I suffer side effects from those lessons." He looked around at all of them this time and lost the sharp edge in his voice._

"_Look, you three here, out of everybody that I'm acquainted with, know that pain is the best way for somebody to grow and learn. We go through pain when our bodies get bigger, when we push ourselves to our limits in practice, and when we realize who it is that we can really trust in this world. It is through experiencing that pain that we become wiser and our bodies become harder and sturdier to physical and emotional wounds." _

_He managed to crack a tiny smile on his face._

"_It's all part of growing up into a man." The faces of his friends made D'artagnan glad that they had such good poker faces when they were in public. The sadness and ache that D'artagnan saw made him realize that that was exactly what their biggest fear was; not being able to protect their youngest friend from the darkest lessons that life had to offer. He returned his gaze to Porthos with a pleading look on his face._

"_So please, stop blaming yourselves so much every time something bad happens to me. I can handle it." There was silence that followed his speech for a long time. It was broken not by Athos or Aramis, but Porthos._

"_When did you become so wise whelp? I thought that's what we had the priest for?" joked Porthos in a cracked voice, his eyes mysteriously bright. D'artagnan offered him another smile in return and replied with some of his old cheekiness._

"_Oh, the same day I realized that I was going to be living with an overgrown child, a bear who likes to drink too much, and a lecherous priest." _

_That got a laugh out of Aramis and Porthos and a small smile out of Athos. D'artagnan immediately crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms tightly around Porthos' waist. The man was frozen for a full five seconds before wrapping his huge arms around the boy and returning the embrace. Feeling like his old self again, Porthos tightened his hold and swung D'artagnan around in a circle._

"_Oof! Porthos unless you plan on wearing my regurgitated food on your clothes quit swinging me around." Porthos did stop at once when he saw that D'artagnan's face had gone even paler than before if it was possible and set the boy on his feet. When he shot a smile at the older man Porthos knew that he had been forgiven, for more than just swinging him around._

_After that day the tension in the house was finally lifted. D'artagnan still had nightmares for another two weeks after that, and during that time he slept in Porthos' room with the giant right behind him; protecting his back from any dangers.  
__

D'artagnan broke out of his thoughts as he heard a woman scream below him. Immediately sitting up, he reached for his sword as he watched a woman run into the courtyard below him. He relaxed though when he saw her laughing when her male companion grabbed her around the waist and spun her around in a circle before sharing a tender kiss.

Feeling like he was intruding D'artagnan immediately lay back down so he wouldn't watch. Hearing the young lady scream made him flinch slightly as the memories swirled around in his head, but just like he told his friends months ago, pain was a guide and not an enemy if he allowed it to be.

This way D'artagnan would be able to get on with his life without almost having to return back to that dreadful night every time he hears a scream.

Almost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

**AN: Hey guys, sorry for the wait. It took me a little bit longer than I expected to write this chapter. It's a lot shorter than the last chapter, but I hope you all like it anyway. Next up with our favorite boys is Aramis and D'artagnan. Enjoy.**

  
Chapter 2: Nearly There

"_Damn it all!" _

_D'artagnan threw down the pen he was trying to use in frustration. Angrily sweeping the poor attempt at a letter aside he buried his face into his hands. It had been three weeks since his last letter to his parents, which he knew was absolutely terrible to write and his penmanship was even worse. He could only imagine what his father must be thinking when he received and read the letter. Both of his parents did not chastise him for his writing but they had apologized for not teaching him how to read and write properly. His father wrote to him saying that since he was now a musketeer he would need to learn and brush up on his reading and writing so that he would be able to obtain information easier on spy and reconnaissance missions, and send coded messages with words and in a writing style that only his friends and the king would be able to recognize. Bertrand offered to ride up to Paris in his last letter to teach the boy, but D'artagnan immediately objected the idea as soon as he read the letter. While he loved his father with every fiber in his body he didn't want him to drag his tired body all the way out to Paris to teach him something that he could easily learn from somebody else already in Paris. Which brought him back to his original problem: who would he get to teach him?_

_Private tutors were hard to come by these days even without the Cardinal restricting funds for the musketeers corps more and more every year. Not to mention the fact that the majority of the people who even knew how to read were the rich and powerful who didn't want anything to do with peasants and soldiers. These were the people that snatched up the tutors who knew their job well left and right like they were going out of style. The very few tutors that did remain on the streets charged a ridiculous amount of money every hour for their services, money that D'artagnan and his friends were barely able to scrap up every month to pay for their rent and meals. D'artagnan didn't want to look helpless in front of his friends about his lack of penmanship so he said nothing to them about his father offering to come to Paris to teach him. He then thought about asking his friends to help him out. _

_Porthos, while good- natured and very friendly, was immediately out of the question. The only things that the man was good at was picking out fashionable clothes to wear, wooing the women, and drinking till he was blue in the face. He had no doubt that the man was well cultured and intelligent, but he didn't want a clown at this time to help him send a serious letter to his parents. Not to mention if Porthos realized he couldn't write very well, he would probably teach him to write letters to Constance that would have D'artagnan blushing for a month, and Constance not talking to him for even longer. So yes, Porthos was definitely not the one to ask. Athos was a possibility; he came from a well cultured family, but asking him for help was like D'artagnan asking help from his father; embarrassing, and he felt like he would be a burden to them. His last friend, Aramis, was a 'yes' in D'artagnan's mind; the man read constantly when he wasn't on guard duty or missions, and his penmanship made D'artagnan squirm with embarrassment at seeing the beautiful curves and lines of the words on the paper compared to his own hand writing. _

_But like asking the others for help, D'artagnan's pride wouldn't allow him to go to the priest for help. Speaking of which…_

"_D'artagnan? Everything okay in there?" _

_The boy quickly grabbed the letter that was on the floor and took several breaths to calm himself down before allowing Aramis into his room. He bent low over the letter as though he had been working on it for some time now, but his posture didn't fool the priest. "You are going to give yourself back aches in the future if you continue to hunch over like that," he said as he sat down on D'artagnan's bed. D'artagnan straightened his back up only to wince when he felt an uncomfortable and almost painful pinch in his lower back._

"_Too late." Aramis chuckled softly as D'artagnan pulled himself out of his chair and fell onto his bed on his stomach next to Aramis. He hummed to himself as the weight was lifted off his back and crossed his arms under his head like a pillow. He sighed in contentment when Aramis lightly massaged the sore area until the knot that had formed there was unraveled. _

"_What were you working on in here before I heard that out of character cursing?" teased Aramis with a small hint of seriousness and concern in his voice. D'artagnan stiffened at first out of surprise at the priest's question, then sighed like a great weight had been set on his shoulders. _

"_It's nothing important Aramis." Aramis raised an eyebrow in an almost perfect imitation of Athos. "It had to have been a little bit important if you're resorting to curses like that. Now what was it?" _

_D'artagnan laid there for a while grumbling to himself before pushing himself over onto his back so he could see his friend's face. _

"_I'm just having some trouble writing a letter to my parents is all. It's nothing to be concerned about." Aramis arched the same eyebrow higher in response. _

"_Is that so?" Before D'artagnan had a chance to respond Aramis had crossed over to the desk where D'artagnan had been writing and looked at the letter. D'artagnan had sat up when he saw Aramis jump to his feet but the priest already had the letter in his hand before D'artagnan could even get off the bed. Now he just sat there in silence, eyes to the floor as Aramis read his letter. He waited for the chastisement on his writing after several moments, but was surprised to hear something else._

"_Other than the fact that your writing is a little bit crooked, I'm not seeing anything here that should indicate you having a problem writing a letter to your parents. Did you talk to a tutor or somebody else to help you out?" The boy shook his head._

"_The few that haven't been snatched up by the wealthy are charging more than we afford to feed ourselves in six months! How can they possibly demand that much of somebody else that's living with the same money issue as them," he said, exasperated._

_Aramis chuckled, "They do have to feed their families as well D'artagnan." He set the letter down and walked over till he was in front of the boy. He squatted down, even from this height he was still about half an inch taller than D'artagnan, and looked him straight in the eye. "To learn how to do something takes courage to step out of that place you are most comfortable in D'artagnan. To put yourself out there to learn new things, and to keep going even when others are ridiculing you and cutting you down with their words. And it also requires you to do something else that takes more courage to do than anything else in the world," he placed his hand on D'artagnan's shoulder and squeezed it lightly, "to ask for help when you need it the most, even at the cost of your dignity and pride." _

_Having said that Aramis crossed over to the door and exited the room with a quiet click from the lock. Aramis' words floated around in D'artagnan's head as he lay on his bed for hours staring up at the ceiling. It was only when Porthos had bellowed his name from down in the kitchens for supper did D'artagnan move. He took one last look at the letter in the flickering light from the slowly dying candle before blowing it out and heading downstairs to eat._  
_

D'artagnan smiled as he was brought back to the present.

He had asked Aramis that same night after Athos and Porthos had gone to bed to help him correct his handwriting where it needed to be. Aramis agreed and for weeks after that Aramis and him worked together every night after the other two had gone to bed. Some nights had ended with D'artagnan getting incredibly frustrated with himself, but with the patience of a saint Aramis would wait until he had finished venting, then he would calm the boy down and they would get back to work. There were some nights where they had worked well into the night when Athos would come downstairs and catch Aramis looking over some papers while D'artagnan was sleeping next to him on the table. After quietly barking at the priest for keeping the boy up so late Athos would put D'artagnan to bed and Aramis would retreat to his room with the papers from the night's lessons.

The lessons had finally paid off when Aramis helped D'artagnan write out the response letter to his father about coming to Paris, and that he had already found an amazing teacher to help him. Aramis had no facial expression when he saw the praising words on the page but the warmth in his eyes was all that D'artagnan needed to see that Aramis appreciated the sentiment.

"_So, are you finally getting the hang of it?"_ Aramis had asked him one evening as they shared a final cup of wine before they would head off to bed. D'artagnan had shrugged and said with a teasing grin.

"_I suppose, considering the teacher I have, that I'll get the hang of it by the time I'm thirty."_ The look Aramis sent him over the rim of his cup promised retribution the next time they sparred.

It was the next day after Aramis had showed him a complicated defensive maneuver during their practice with each other that D'artagnan gave him his answer. Aramis had asked him if D'artagnan understood and memorized the steps to execute the move properly, and the response answered more than just the present question.

"_Not quite yet, but nearly there."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

**AN: Hey everybody. Here's the final chapter to Reflection with Athos and D'artagnan as our closing stars. Enjoy.  
_**

Chapter 3:

D'artagnan sighed peacefully as the last of the sun's rays disappeared behind the buildings and the coolness of the evening began to settle in. He pulled his jacket on before settling back down on the roof to listen to the music that only the night life could bring. It was at moments like this he was truly able to relax and feel at peace the most. No more thinking about the Cardinal's guards, missions, other enemies, the king, nothing at all. But of course when his mind is empty at times like this the faces of all the men he killed both before he became a member of the musketeers and after would flood his mind. They would taunt and tease him maliciously, hoping to drive him out of his mind with guilt and anxiety. It was these men that D'artagnan was able to easily ignore, but there was one person from D'artagnan's past that continued to haunt him to this day. Even though he had finally confronted the memory of this person two weeks ago, he would still get their memory popping up in the forefront of his mind. He thought back to the time when Athos had finally convinced him to break his shell of silence about his past.  
**_**

_D'artagnan sat up with a gasp, his body slick with sweat. Body shaking with tremors he looked around himself and saw that he was still in his bedroom in Paris; it did nothing to stop his thundering heart or his instincts telling him to run as far from the house as possible though. On shaking legs he pushed himself out of bed and splashed cold water on his face shivering in the exposed air as he looked in the mirror next to the bowl. His cheeks looked sunken in, his eyes were heavily dilated, and there were dark circles under said eyes from continuous sleepless nights. His face was paler than normal and his lips were bruised and scarred from biting them in his sleep to keep from screaming out loud. _

_He took shaky, uneven breaths as he tried to stop his trembling body to keep still. Visions of what had woke him up flashed through his mind and he hissed as he tried to force them back into the furthest corners of his mind. After several more breaths he managed to calm his body down just in time; soft footsteps down the hall were heading straight for his room. He dove back into his bed and pulled the blankets over him just as he heard the door to his room open slightly. He tried to keep his breath as even and calm as possible but it proved to be a challenge with his heart starting to race again. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until he heard the door close and the footsteps disappear down the hall again. He fell into an uneasy sleep as he prayed for the dreams not to come._

**_**_It was warmer the next morning; the first sign that summer was almost upon them. It was still pleasantly cool enough to have a picnic or simply take a stroll around the city though without fear of the heat, and the city folk and off duty musketeers were taking full advantage of the weather._

_Except D'artagnan._

_He was certain the Aramis and Porthos were mingling amongst the women and wine while Athos was sitting in the corner of a tavern waiting to toss the drunks into the streets. As for Planchet the man was probably out shopping for food, so D'artagnan knew that he would have the house to himself for a few blessed hours at least. So it came as a complete surprise when he walked downstairs to see Athos sitting at the table nursing a cup on wine, the bottle half empty on the table._

"_It is not even noon yet, and you're already going for the hard stuff?" He teased good-naturedly as he retrieved his breakfast form the oven where Planchet had stored it to stay warm. Athos snorted and leveled a look at his younger companion._

"_It is not even noon yet, and you're already acting like a smartass?" _

"_Of course," D'artagnan quipped back, "the day is not complete unless I have either done something potentially stupid or dangerous or acted like a smartass."_

_Athos grunted in agreement before taking a drink of his wine. D'artagnan gave the man a smirk as he returned his attention to his cooling breakfast. They passed the time in companionable silence while D'artagnan ate his breakfast and tried to focus his thoughts on the errands and tasks he had set for himself that day while Athos continued to drink the bottle of wine. He wasn't on duty today, thank God, but he needed to be doing something productive and busy to keep his mind off of the nightmares from the night before. It was only when D'artagnan got up to clean his dishes that Athos finally spoke up._

"_In the past twenty years that I have been a musketeer I have seen a lot of things D'artagnan. War, bloodshed, grief…things that no one should ever have to see. Especially not the tears of parents when a fellow musketeer has to tell them that their son had been killed in battle or in the streets from an enemy." Athos stopped to take a drink from the wine bottle. He continued to speak in the direction of the fireplace but he could see the tenseness in the boy's back that indicated he was listening. "One of the men I worked with in the past became insomnic because was plagued by nightmares of his past. Small ones at first, but they eventually grew in length and viciousness. When he first brushed off help from the other musketeers, we thought nothing of it. We backed off and let him have his space. Then his insomnia started to affect his duties as a musketeer and his fighting. He began showing up late for guard duty, he never paid attention during training and spars, and on more than one occasion he had dropped his guard and was beaten by groups of the Cardinal's guards. But again, he brushed off all offers of help from the other musketeers. It finally got the point where Monsieur Treville had to take the man off active duty." Athos took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The air began to tense as Athos spoke again, his words forced and ragged. "He fell into a deep depression after that and his health began to rapidly decline. His drinking began to worsen as well; sometimes we would find him passed out in the street, or in the alleys or taverns with ten or more bottles around him. It was after the third time someone from the musketeers found him like this that Monsieur Treville assigned a few of us to watch him." Athos stopped as his words began to choke in his throat. He took several deep breaths to control his emotions and calm himself. When he spoke again his voice was flat and devoid of all emotions._

"_One night the guards were assigned to watch him decided to shirk their duties. They went out drinking and got distracted by the women and food, and were gone for hours. It was only on their way back home that they decided to check on who they were supposed to be guarding." Athos drank a whole cup of wine in one gulp before continuing, his voice steady and emotionless. "They found him hanging from the rafters by his belt in full musketeer uniform. His nightmares had pushed him over the edge; he was so far gone that he had chosen death to escape from them and one of us had even noticed." Athos let out a bitter laugh. D'artagnan shuddered at the scorn and self-disgust laced in it. "The musketeers corp claims that we all look out for one another, that w are all brothers and family to one another. But how can we call ourselves that? How the hell can we hope to defend our king and country when we are so inept that we cannot even take care of one of our own?" Athos let out a great sigh that seemed to come from every part of his body. He grabbed the bottle of wine and downed the rest of its contents in one gulp. "The dressing down my partner and I got that night D'artagnan," he said ignoring the quiet gasp from the boy, "and the day after the funeral is the same speech that Monsieur Treville gives to the new recruits when they become musketeers; you will hear him tell it to and others when you finish your probation." Athos got to his feet still staring at the fireplace, but D'artagnan knew that Athos was speaking to him directly this time. _

"_Because of my foolishness and selfishness, one of the greatest men to ever fight for the king was killed because neither I, nor anyone else, pushed to become the rock that he needed to help balance himself again. We did not help him like we were supposed to, and I will be _damned_ if I make the same mistake again today!"_

_Without another word Athos donned his hat and cloak and wept out the door without a backward glance. It was only when D'artagnan heard Athos' horse disappear that he broke down in quiet sobs full of remorse and pain. Whether the tears were for himself or Athos he didn't know. He was found an hour later by Planchet curled on the floor in the corner, dried tear tracks on his cheeks and a far off look in his very red eyes. Brushing off the servants frantic worrying D'artagnan strode out of the house and saddled up Buttercup; he was out of the stables and down the road by the time Planchet got outside._

_D'artagnan rode Buttercup to just outside the city limits before turning onto a path that would take him into the trees. The woods were small but they provided incredible privacy and shelter for others to hide in. D'artagnan pulled Buttercup to a stop near a stream and let her enjoy the grass while he sat nearby, the conversation with Athos earlier pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. My God, did this incident partly contribute to Athos' character today along with Milady? And why did Athos tell him such a story anyway? His nightmares had nowhere near the terror of what this man had dreamt of to cause him to hang himself; they were small ones anyway. _

'_Ah, but you do not know that for sure,' said a nasty voice in his head. 'That's possibly what that other musketeer said about his nightmares at first. And just look at where he is now.' D'artagnan winced as he pushed the voice away._

_Then Athos' final words came to mind: _"We did not help him like we were supposed to, and I will be damned if I make the same mistake again today!"

_D'artagnan sighed heavily as he buried his head in his arms. Then he chuckled. Athos would not be considered somebody who was an expert when it came to expressing himself. But he was definitely considered somebody who knew how to get his point across, even in the most backhanded way. But that was Athos though; it was just another part of his character. D'artagnan stayed out by that stream all day, the errands and tasks he had set himself to do long forgotten. Only when the sun had gone completely down did D'artagnan retrieve Buttercup and head back home.  
_**_**

D'artagnan remembered arriving back home to find the house empty; the others were probably out looking for him. Too tired to stay up for them he had left a note saying what time he got in and went to bed. He stayed in bed all day the following morning, too lost in his thoughts when Planchet would ask him if he wanted food or when the others visited him. He knew that he was worrying them, but he needed to get his head on straight.

It was well into the evening before D'artagnan finally came downstairs. He found Athos sitting by the fire with a cup of wine on the table. The two of them said nothing for a long time as they sat there looking at the fire. It was only after Athos had finished the bottle of wine on the table that D'artagnan spoke about his nightmares. The two of them sat up all night talking, Athos having to open up a new bottle of wine for the two of them halfway through the night. Aramis and Porthos came down for breakfast the next morning just as D'artagnan finished speaking to Athos. He assured the both of them that he was fine and apologized for worrying them all before heading upstairs to get some sleep before his guard shift. **_**

"Lad!" D'artagnan sat up in surprise and peered over the ledge of the building. Porthos was at the bottom with his hands cupped over his mouth. "Are you going to join us for dinner or turn crazy from staring at the moon?!" D'artagnan smiled cheekily; he couldn't resist a challenge like that.

"It is too late for me to turn crazy; my sanity was already gone after living with you three for a month!" Porthos' response was to do the most mature thing anybody could do after a quip like that; he stuck his tongue out at the boy and pouted. D'artagnan laughed at the older man and slid down to the edge of the roof where he had tied some rope around one of the chimneys. Gripping it tightly in his hands he slid down the side of the three story building to land next to Porthos.

"If Athos saw you doing that lad he would have both of our hides," said the older musketeer as he watched D'artagnan tie the rope around a beam in a tight knot.

"No, just yours; he likes me too much," said D'artagnan with a smirk as Porthos pulled the boy into a headlock. The two of them walked into the house to be greeted by Planchet's delicious cooking and their other comrades already sitting at the table. The four of them sat around the table for hours eating dinner and telling stories. D'artagnan smiled as he took in the warm atmosphere and flushed the tiniest bit when the others welcomed him home from his finished mission the previous night. _'Yes,' _D'artagnan thought to himself as he took in the dysfunctional members of his new family, _'It is good to be home.'_

**Well ya'll? Love it? Hate it? Like it? Wipe your ass with it? Let me know!**


	4. Chapter 1 version 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alexander Dumas' characters, and I make no profit from this story.**

**AN: Hey everybody, this is one of my first short stories that I'm going to be practicing writing before I get started on my Dragon series. For those of you out there who have a problem reading attempted rape, or foul language of any kind, then you shouldn't be reading this story. Enjoy, and I'll have marked the attempted rape scene.**  
_

Chapter 1: Almost

The cool winds of the early evening were a great relief from the unbearable heat that Paris suffered only a few hours earlier, and the citizens were taking advantage of the welcomed change in temperature. Children played games like hopscotch and hide-and-seek while their parents watched them to make sure they didn't stray too far and stayed out of trouble or with their own hand-made toys outside. Men either sat outside reading, playing chess or cards, or simply chatting with one another with a bottle of wine. Women took advantage of the welcoming coolness as well by doing normal indoor chores outside, playing with their children, or drinking tea with one another out in their yards.

The regular citizens weren't the only ones who were thankful for the departure of the heat. The musketeers and the Cardinal's guards flooded the taverns and bars for a much needed drink after a long day of rounds and guard duty in the merciless sun. They were enjoying the blessed relief too much to get into the familiar brawls with one another, which both surprised and pleased the tavern and bar owners and customers. The rest of the evening, to the customers and owners happiness, was spent with the musketeers and the Cardinal's guards keeping to their own groups, only swapping the occasional hate filled glance at one another every now and then but not acting upon it.

One musketeer -in training though he may be- was eager to enjoy as much of the cooler temperature as possible before he had to wake up on the morrow to another uncomfortably hot day.

D'artagnan stretched slightly, sighing in relief with he felt a couple of joints pop into place, and laid back against the roof of his shared apartment, his folded cloak acting as a pillow. He breathed in the sharp air and smiled as the familiar smells assaulted his senses; earth and rain from the plant life around the courtyard that his apartment sat in, the delicious smells of Planchet's cooking wafting up through the open window, the smell of pine smoke from the chimney, the faint aroma of pastries and cakes being made from the bakery just down the road from them, tobacco smoke from the pipes his neighbors were smoking, and the overall fresh smell of nature and sky.

Breathing in these smells and fully relaxing against the roof, D'artagnan closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift away into his memories.

It had been exactly three months since D'artagnan had first barreled, quite literally in Athos and Porthos' cases, into the lives of the three musketeers, and since then he had wormed his way very deeply into their hearts. D'artagnan knew that his friends would deny this even under the most grueling interrogation though, but it made him happy all the same that his friends would save their stronger feelings regarding him in private just for him to see. Multiple times since he began living with the three men they had showed the depth of what their friendship with him meant, and it filled D'artagnan with warmth that he was able to find a different kind of family to ease his homesickness for his parents.

Three specific incidents stood out to him in his mind and he smiled as the memories drifted to the front of his mind one at a time.  
_

_It was two weeks after the diamond retrieval mission, and D'artagnan had earned his place in the musketeer corps as a trainee thanks to Louis XIII reinstating the musketeers corps and praises from not only his friends, but from Monsieur Treville as well. _

_Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were a little worried about the boy since this entitled him to go on missions not only with other musketeers that he didn't know, but by himself as well though it would only be into the next village or city over._

_The upside was that he was also able to go on whatever missions with the other three if they requested for him, which was all the time._

_Right now, Porthos and D'artagnan were sent to the ports to follow up on rumors about possible pirates threatening to attack France's coast towns. _

_Since only Athos, Aramis, D'artagnan, and Monsieur Treville knew of Porthos' past life as a pirate, he was the clear and only choice musketeer to handle issues concerning piracy. D'artagnan was only too eager to go with him. _

"_As close as I have lived near the ocean all my life I have never actually seen it before our trip to England for the diamonds." This surprised the other three men who knew how adventurous the boy was, but none of them commented on it._

_One week after Porthos and D'artagnan had arrived at the ports they had found out that the rumors about possible pirates were in fact true. Through heavy bribery and interrogation, Porthos was able to get the information on where and what time the pirates were meeting to discuss their plans on pillaging one of the nearby villages._

_D'artagnan was more than a little bit angry when Porthos told him that only he was going to be confronting the pirates with the port's guards._

"_These men have nothing on the Cardinal's guards, boy," he had said to D'artagnan after he broke the news to him, "they at least have some sort of honor and code that they have to live by, and some form of authority to report to. Pirates live under their own code with no honor involved, and the only masters that they follow are themselves. Killing you would be like killing a woman after they've had their fill of her; with a clear conscience and no form of regret afterwards."_

_Porthos had spoken in such a firm and serious voice that made D'artagnan realize that the man was being haunted by his own memories of when he had been on the other side of the law since he had first been given the mission, and finally finding their targets was bringing those memories forward in full force._

_For the first time, D'artagnan was determined to listen to one of his friends' warnings about staying out of trouble. _

_If only life had really been that easy for him. Fate seemed especially eager to make his life difficult._

_Some of the local juveniles had started a fire nearby from small explosives, and D'artagnan knew that he couldn't just sit in his room. When some help from the local townspeople, the fire was put out and the juveniles were hauled away to be kept in the local prison until their parents or some other form of authority for children could bail them out._

_It was on his way back to the hotel that D'artagnan's luck changed in a hurry. Which brings the present back to the main focus. _

"_Come on boy, is that the best you got for me?!" _

_D'artagnan spit blood out of his mouth as he hatefully glared up at his adversary. _

_He had caught the man and his friends harassing two women in the alley when he was on his way back from helping put out the fire. _

_He, of course, jumped in to help the women out, but he knew right away that he should have first studied his enemies before running in. He had said to Queen Anne months earlier that he couldn't help being reckless in choosing his battles, and he now wished more than ever that he had some form of self- control over himself._

_Without taking a chance to think about his next move, he charged at the much bigger, stronger man with a war cry, his blade held in his hand._

_The man merely stepped to the side and with a hard thrust drove his knee into D'artagnan's midsection, his friends cheering drunkenly nearby. _

_Gasping for breath, the boy was given no warning as the man dealt a vicious right hook to his cheek and nose, his teething snapping together sharply, his tongue in between. Blood dripping from his mouth and nose as he struggled to breathe, D'artagnan blearily stared up at the man as he tried to regain his wits. _

_With a vicious smirk at the boy at his feet, the older gentleman brought his foot up kicked it harshly at D'artagnan's face. He went down as the fire in his cheek and nose doubled, and his head hit the cold, unforgiving stones below him, but he refused to cry out. _

_Smiling maliciously in victory at the defeated boy, the man picked up D'artagnan's fallen sword and kicked the boy over onto his back. _

"_You feel that whelp?" he said nastily as D'artagnan tried not to breathe in the man's alcohol-laced breath, "that's the feeling of defeat. Of knowing where you really belong in this world; at the feet of the men."_

_His stomach clenching in pain D'artagnan rolled over to glare at the man square in the eye. Without even a second thought, he spit blood at the man's face, a spark of triumph running through him when he hit his mark. It was immediately put out when he saw the raw fury build up in the man's eyes after the blood and saliva had been wiped away._

_With a roar of pure anger the man went into a rage and began to violently and repeatedly kick D'artagnan's ribs and back. Each kick to his already bruised and injured body felt like a hot knife was being thrust inside him only to be brutally ripped back out again and shoved back in. _

_Though he was unable to prevent the painful tears from sliding out from under his eyelids, D'artagnan refused to allow any noises of pain to escape his lips which were bleeding as he had bit through the skin clean to stay completely silent. _

_When the man had finally tired of kicking D'artagnan bloody, he jerked the boy's face upwards in a tight grip._

"_You're a very pretty looking lad, boy," the man drawled out, his hidden message received and understood by his men standing nearby, who began to smile salaciously to one another. The man's face broke out into a wide, nasty grin, the pooling lust in his eyes making D'artagnan gulp._

"_Yes," the man continued, "and I believe that you also still need to learn your lesson about messing with the affairs of men where you clearly don't belong. I'm sure that my men would be more than happy to give you a, _thorough_, lesson and punishment."_

_The drunken laughter following this speech made D'artagnan's stomach clench in fear. Porthos and Athos had said months earlier that D'artagnan would be dead by sundown thanks to his impetuousness and recklessness and D'artagnan felt sure that this was possibly that moment._

_His ribs cried out in pain when he was suddenly hauled to his feet by two other men who held his arms tightly. He was sure there were going to be bruises there later. _

_The leader of the group used the hilt of D'artagnan's sword to tilt his chin up._

"_We're going to teach you the consequences of meddling in a man's business little boy," he man sneered with the same nasty smile still on his face, yellowed, crooked teeth showing, "just remember: one word out of you and we'll turn you into shark bait." _

**-Attempted Rape Scene. Skip down to the end if you're uncomfortable with reading this-**

_D'artagnan didn't even have time to reply or to think before each of the men holding his arms brought their free hands up and harshly pinched his nipples. At the same time, the leader in front of him shot his hand out and roughly cupped him where nobody else but him had touched. _

_His cry of pain and surprise was smothered by a mouth pressing unforgivably against his own. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood the leader thrust his tongue inside D'artagnan's mouth and roughly mapped out the inside. _

_D'artagnan could hear the remaining men laughing drunkenly, lustfully as they watched their leader and friends molest him with forceful touches and brutal movements. _

_Fighting the urge the throw up from the smell and taste of the man D'artagnan tried to jerk his mouth and body away as much as he could, but the grips on his jaw and arms were as strong as iron. _

_Out of desperation and fear D'artagnan clamped his jaw shut tightly, trapping the man's tongue between his teeth. The taste of iron seeped into his mouth as the man pulled away from him with a roar of anger._

"_You little bastard!" Fire erupted this time on D'artagnan's other cheek as the man punched him once, then a second time in the gut, once again knocking the wind from the boy. "I'll teach you mess with me." _

_D'artagnan's eyes went wide in fear when he looked up and saw the man fumbling with the fastens on his pants, and his mind almost shut down when he felt the two men holding him start to clumsily try to undo his own pants._

"_No! Please don't!" yelled D'artagnan out of desperation, hoping someone out on the street could hear him. The leader looked up at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he finally got his pants undone and D'artagnan's were shoved to his knees. _

"_You're gonna regret that boy."_

**-Scene's over. Let's get back to the story-**

_The man didn't take two steps forward before two blades suddenly protruded from his chest and his crotch. D'artagnan and the others watched in horror and fascination as the man fell to the ground in front of them, blood seeping from both his upper and lower body. _

_D'artagnan looked up to see who the man's assailant was and almost cowered against the men holding him. Porthos stood there with his sword drawn in one hand and another knife in the other. His clothes were covered in blood and what looked like body matter was staining the heel of his boots._

_His eyes however were what made D'artagnan shrink away in fear. _

_His eyes had darkened till they were almost pitch- black with fury. Taking in the scene from the dead leader to the two men still holding D'artagnan's roughly handled body his face grew harder when he took in the boy's bloody and swollen lips and undone pants. _

_His dark gaze drifted over each of the men in the alley who shrunk back slightly but kept a firm hold on their swords; obviously they weren't as drunk as they had been acting earlier. D'artagnan's heart jolted with fear; these men were completely sober, and had been ready to watch their boss rape and share a young boy over half their ages with the rest of them._

_As Porthos' gaze swept over towards his direction, his felt the two men holding his arms tighten their grips on him. A small sound of pain escaped him before he had time to stop it and watched Porthos go from seeing red to seeing purple in a split second. He knew that the look wasn't meant for him, but he still couldn't help but swallow in fear at seeing it._

_Gone was the overgrown child, the everyday clown that made D'artagnan laugh till he was in stitches before ten o'clock in the morning, the goofball of the quartet that kept the comedic side of life alive in their home. In his place was a man that looked every bit his age and exactly like the blood stains and body matter portrayed him to be: a monster._

_It was all over in under a minute. The two men holding D'artagnan seemed to vanish into thin air as he saw Porthos take on the rest of the men standing nearby. D'artagnan's knees gave out under him and just as he caught himself, he looked behind him to see both men on the ground with a knife sticking out of their foreheads. He turned around again just in time to see Porthos finishing off the last two men with a quick slice of his sword. _

_D'artagnan gagged at the scene and almost retched when he saw the amount of blood staining Porthos' sword. He quickly did up his pants as Porthos slowed his breathing down and tried to get himself under control. _

_The physical and mental abuse the boy had endured in the last couple of hours from the fire and the men finally caught up with up. As he slipped into the welcoming darkness his last vision was Porthos' worried face.  
__

_When he looked at D'artagnan the boy couldn't help but cringe at the still visible white-hot fury in the man's eyes. Porthos tried to soften his gaze but the adrenaline and rage still coursing through his blood wouldn't let him. _

_Blast it all! He told the boy to stay in the room!_

_The information he had gotten from one of the vic…pirates had been spot on. What the pirate failed to tell Porthos, though, was that not one, but three pirate crews were going to be attending the meeting. Somehow word got back to the pirates about the king's musketeers and the port's guards crashing the meeting, and they were taken by surprise. He and the port's guards had gotten into a vicious tussle with the pirates who didn't back down until every last one of them had either been captured or killed. Three guards were lost in the fight, and four more were critically injured. The job was done though, and taken care of._

_He had made it back to the hotel when one of the servants in the lobby told him that the young man he was rooming with wasn't there. The servant had nearly pissed himself there in front of God and the guests when Porthos lifted him up by the front of his shirt and growled out where D'artagnan's location was. The man stuttered that a fire had broken out further down the street and the young man had flown out of the hotel to help put it out. _

_Porthos had taken off in the boy's direction until he came upon the scene of the fire. After asking a few of the townsfolk who were still cleaning up the mess the fire made about D'artagnan, he headed back to the hotel where they told him they last saw the boy walking in the direction of._

_Porthos was halfway to the hotel when he heard a cry of fear and desperation coming from an alley hidden so well by the shadows that if Porthos hadn't heard the cry he wouldn't have known it was there. The cry sounding so much like D'artagnan's it made Porthos' blood turn to ice as he took off into the alley._

_The scene he walked in on unfroze his blood into white fire in a flash, the pounding of his heart so loud in his ears it blocked out the rest of the world. _

_There were at least ten local men in the alley, drunks by the smell of the area, and were laughing like hyenas at something going on in the middle. Two of the men seemed to be holding someone's arms back while the leader of the group beat him. At least that's what it looked like at first._

_Porthos then took a second look at the men and realized that not only were they not drunk, but they were disgustedly aroused as well, and judging from what they were looking at it was obviously at the people in the middle of the alley. Porthos' fist tightened as he prayed that it wasn't who he believed was the middle of those three men. _

_When the leader pulled away Porthos' nightmare came true._

_D'artagnan. His naïve, sweet, innocent friend D'artagnan was held up in front of all these men like a whore waiting to be passed around. His body began to tremble as he took in D'artagnan's flushed face, bruised and bloodied lips, and the rising fear in the boy's eyes. He finally snapped when he saw the men holding his arms each reach around and undo the ties to the boy's pants. _

_With a speed that Aramis himself would be jealous of Porthos had thrown two daggers at the leader's back as he drew his sword and the man had just pulled his pants down. He could only imagine what he looked like to D'artagnan having just come a very bloody battle without washing it away first; the slight hint of fear of looking at him made Porthos wince but he ignored that as he made short work of the rest of the men._

_When he had finally calmed his racing heart and tempered his rage to a smolder he turned to see how D'artagnan fared, but was in shock at seeing the boy slip into unconsciousness. _

_Wasting no time he gathered the boy's sword and his own and practically ran to the hotel with D'artagnan in his arms. He barked at every servant who worked there not to disturb him after he had a maid bring him some water and rags. He cleaned the boy's wounds as best as he could before changing him into some sleep clothes and tucked him into bed. _

_Ordering one of the servants to bring him the biggest and strongest bottle of wine they had he pulled up a chair and sat there watching D'artagnan as he slept through the night.  
__

D'artagnan winced as he remembered the two weeks that had followed that event.

Porthos and him hadn't spoken a single word the entire trip back home, and after Porthos had given his report to Treville. The only response that came from the man was preventing Athos and Aramis from hunting down the men who had attacked D'artagnan after Porthos told them.

D'artagnan had retreated to his bedroom after being fussed after by both Athos and Aramis, but Porthos wouldn't even look at him all night. It hurt D'artagnan but he figured that Porthos was just trying to get a grip on what had happened in the alley.

Two weeks had passed and Porthos still hadn't said a word to him. It drove pain through D'artagnan's heart that Porthos was deliberately ignoring him. Not to mention it hurt that in the nightmares he had been experiencing Porthos had ignored him as well, leaving D'artagnan to the mercy of those men.

It finally took a screaming match between Porthos and the other two to get a decent response out of the man.  
_

"_That's it man! We've both had enough." _

_Porthos looked up to see Aramis' uncharacteristically angry face and Athos' hard, stony glare._

"_What are you ladies going on about now?" he said in what sounded in an uncaring voice, but the hint of defensiveness was there to catch._

"_That boy up there," Aramis pointed up the stairs, "has been suffering nightmares since you brought him home and not once have you checked on him. You of the three of us should be the first person to help ease his mind!" Porthos snorted as he concentrated on the wine in his cup._

"_Why should I? Our beloved Athos has taken up the job without a fuss from the boy." Porthos took a long drink of his wine to try and cover up the bitterness that had seeped into his voice._

"_That's because you haven't spoken a word or even looked at D'artagnan since you came back to Paris," growled Athos, "what could you possibly be thinking that's telling you it's okay to ignore the boy after what happened to him?" Porthos slammed his mug down on the table, the first sign of his anger, the most he had shown in the past two weeks. Planchet could feel the rising tension in the air and made a quick escape upstairs to check on D'artagnan. _

"_You two didn't see the way that boy looked at me," he growled out, the anger and sadness he had been keeping down for the past two weeks finally resurfacing, "after I had finished dealing with those bastards for what they had done to him. He had looked at me with such fear in his eyes, like he expected me to come after him next." _

_There was silence for a little while after that. He half expected Athos and Aramis to leave him to his wine and go back to the boy even though he wished D'artagnan wasn't so afraid of him so he could. What Porthos didn't expect to happen next was Athos grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet. Even though Porthos had a couple of inches and pounds over Athos the man was surprisingly strong._

"_Then quit your damn moping and get your ass up there and comfort the boy," he snapped. Porthos shoved Athos off of him while Aramis caught him and steadied him on his feet._

"_You're doing a fine job of it by yourself; why ask the person who scared the boy to death to go up and hold his hand?" he snarled._

"_D'artagnan is not afraid of you Porthos," said Aramis after he let Athos go, "he was frightened of your temper, not of you. And if you think that by sulking and waiting around for the boy to come to you is going to patch things up think again!" _

_Porthos turned his mounting rage on the former priest. "Then explain this with your infinite wisdom abbe," he spat the word out, "I tried to help D'artagnan with Buttercup's saddle the other night, and you know what he did? He flinched away from me! From me! Like I was going to strike him! What do you say to that?!" _

_Aramis didn't let the venom in Porthos' words to his former occupation bother him as he snapped in return with equal ferocity._

"_He flinches away from everybody these days Porthos. You, me, Athos, even Planchet! He is still getting over what happened to him. And if you would stop being a complete _ass_, he would be healing that much faster!" Only when Aramis was under the most extreme amount of stress or anger did the former priest swear, and boy was he feeling angry right now. _

"_I'll stop being an ass when the kid forgives me for putting him in that kind of danger! And all of us here know that that's not going to happen!"_

"STOP IT ALL OF YOU!" 

_The three men turned around to the staircase and they winced on the inside at the state of D'artagnan. His face was pale and sunken, heavy bags from multiple nights lost without sleep forming under his eyes. His lips were chapped and cracked, and there was sweat beading his forehead. There was a blanket tightly wrapped around him and he was shivering._

_His lack of sleep from the past two weeks had gotten him sick not only with fever, but also with a sore throat from all the screaming that he had done. It had hurt the boy to swallow even water. So it came as a surprise to the men that he was able to shout over their voices. _

_D'artagnan coughed violently from having to raise his voice and he was steadied by Planchet who had been behind him since he came down the stairs. The servant handed D'artagnan a cup of water who drank it gratefully despite the pain it caused his throat when he swallowed. _

"_Just stop it," he croaked out. He crossed the room on unsteady feet and grabbed the back of a chair when he stumbled a little bit. "I'm fine," he snapped out when Athos and Aramis moved forward to catch him. He righted himself up and focused the harshest glare he could muster on Porthos._

"_What the hell is your problem?!" he bit out to the surprise of the others, "I've been going out of my mind the past two weeks thinking that you were mad at me because I left the hotel, and here I find out that your wallowing in self-pity because you couldn't protect me from those men."_

_None of the other men knew what to say at this point. How could they though? The boy was practically saying that he didn't appreciate what Porthos had done._

"_I am always going to be grateful of the amount of times you three have saved me in the past, and will save me in the future. But you need to realize that you cannot protect me from everything." D'artagnan said this with such firmness that the others opened their mouths to disagree but he interrupted them. "No, listen to me. Yes you three are the best that the king has in his musketeers guard, and my fighting skills have improved dramatically since I started fighting alongside you. But that still won't be enough to protect me from every hard lesson life is going to throw at me. I need you three to be around to soften the blow when I finally get hit with one of those lessons, not out drinking your guilt away because you couldn't stop it from coming in the first place."_

_He looked Porthos square in the eye as he continued, "And you can't keep blaming yourselves afterwards if I suffer side effects from those lessons." He looked around at all of them this time and lost the sharp edge in his voice._

"_Look, you three here, out of everybody that I'm acquainted with, know that pain is the best way for somebody to grow and learn. We go through pain when our bodies get bigger, when we push ourselves to our limits in practice, and when we realize who it is that we can really trust in this world. It is through experiencing that pain that we become wiser and our bodies become harder and sturdier to physical and emotional wounds." _

_He managed to crack a tiny smile on his face._

"_It's all part of growing up into a man." The faces of his friends made D'artagnan glad that they had such good poker faces when they were in public. The sadness and ache that D'artagnan saw made him realize that that was exactly what their biggest fear was; not being able to protect their youngest friend from the darkest lessons that life had to offer. He returned his gaze to Porthos with a pleading look on his face._

"_So please, stop blaming yourselves so much every time something bad happens to me. I can handle it." There was silence that followed his speech for a long time. It was broken not by Athos or Aramis, but Porthos._

"_When did you become so wise whelp? I thought that's what we had the priest for?" joked Porthos in a cracked voice, his eyes mysteriously bright. D'artagnan offered him another smile in return and replied with some of his old cheekiness._

"_Oh, the same day I realized that I was going to be living with an overgrown child, a bear who likes to drink too much, and a lecherous priest." _

_That got a laugh out of Aramis and Porthos and a small smile out of Athos. D'artagnan immediately crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms tightly around Porthos' waist. The man was frozen for a full five seconds before wrapping his huge arms around the boy and returning the embrace. Feeling like his old self again, Porthos tightened his hold and swung D'artagnan around in a circle._

"_Oof! Porthos unless you plan on wearing my regurgitated food on your clothes quit swinging me around." Porthos did stop at once when he saw that D'artagnan's face had gone even paler than before if it was possible and set the boy on his feet. When he shot a smile at the older man Porthos knew that he had been forgiven, for more than just swinging him around._

_After that day the tension in the house was finally lifted. D'artagnan still had nightmares for another two weeks after that, and during that time he slept in Porthos' room with the giant right behind him; protecting his back from any dangers.  
__

D'artagnan broke out of his thoughts as he heard a woman scream below him. Immediately sitting up, he reached for his sword as he watched a woman run into the courtyard below him. He relaxed though when he saw her laughing when her male companion grabbed her around the waist and spun her around in a circle before sharing a tender kiss.

Feeling like he was intruding D'artagnan immediately lay back down so he wouldn't watch. Hearing the young lady scream made him flinch slightly as the memories swirled around in his head, but just like he told his friends months ago, pain was a guide and not an enemy if he allowed it to be.

This way D'artagnan would be able to get on with his life without almost having to return back to that dreadful night every time he hears a scream.

Almost.

**Well ya'll? Love it? Hate it? Like it? Wipe your ass with it? Let me know!**


	5. Chapter 2 version 2

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

**AN: Hey guys, sorry for the wait. It took me a little bit longer than I expected to write this chapter. It's a lot shorter than the last chapter, but I hope you all like it anyway. Next up with our favorite boys is Aramis and D'artagnan. Enjoy.**

  
Chapter 2: Nearly There

"_Damn it all!" _

_D'artagnan threw down the pen he was trying to use in frustration. Angrily sweeping the poor attempt at a letter aside he buried his face into his hands. It had been three weeks since his last letter to his parents, which he knew was absolutely terrible to read and his penmanship was even worse. He could only imagine what his father must be thinking when he received and read the letter. Both of his parents did not chastise him for his writing but they had apologized for not teaching him how to read and write properly. His father wrote to him saying that since he was now a musketeer he would need to learn and brush up on his reading and writing skills so that he would be able to obtain information easier on spy and reconnaissance missions, and send coded messages with words and in a writing style that only his friends and the king would be able to recognize. Bertrand offered to ride up to Paris in his last letter to teach the boy, but D'artagnan immediately objected the idea as soon as he read the letter. While he loved his father with every fiber in his body he didn't want him to drag his tired body all the way out to Paris to teach him something that he could easily learn from somebody else already in Paris. Which brought him back to his original problem: who would he get to teach him?_

_Private tutors were hard to come by these days even without the Cardinal restricting funds for the musketeer's corps more and more every year. Not to mention the fact that the majority of the people who even knew how to read were the rich and powerful who didn't want anything to do with peasants and soldiers. These were the people that snatched up the tutors who knew their job well left and right before they could be taken in by the lower class. The very few tutors that did remain on the streets charged a ridiculous amount of money every hour for their services, money that D'artagnan and his friends were barely able to scrap up every month to pay for their rent and meals. D'artagnan didn't want to look helpless in front of his friends about his sorry excuse for penmanship so he said nothing to them about his father offering to come to Paris to teach him. He then thought about asking his friends to help him out. _

_Porthos, while good- natured and very friendly, was immediately out of the question. The only things that the man was good at was picking out fashionable clothes to wear, wooing the women, and drinking till he was blue in the face. He had no doubt that the man was well cultured and intelligent, but he didn't want a clown at this time to help him send a serious letter to his parents. Not to mention if Porthos realized he couldn't write very well, he would probably teach him to write letters to Constance that would have D'artagnan blushing for a month, and Constance not talking to him for even longer. So yes, Porthos was definitely not the one to ask. Athos was a possibility; he came from a well cultured family, but asking him for help was like D'artagnan asking help from his father; embarrassing, and he felt like he would be a burden to them. His last friend, Aramis, was a 'yes' in D'artagnan's mind; the man read constantly when he wasn't on guard duty or missions, and his penmanship made D'artagnan squirm with embarrassment at seeing the beautiful curves and lines of the words on the paper compared to his own hand writing. _

_But like asking the others for help, D'artagnan's pride wouldn't allow him to go to the priest for help. Speaking of which…_

"_D'artagnan? Everything okay in there?" _

_The boy quickly grabbed the letter that was on the floor and took several breaths to calm himself down before allowing Aramis into his room. He bent low over the letter as though he had been working on it for some time now, but his posture didn't fool the priest. "You are going to give yourself back aches in the future if you continue to hunch over like that," he said as he sat down on D'artagnan's bed. D'artagnan straightened his back up only to wince when he felt an uncomfortable and almost painful pinch in his lower back._

"_Too late." Aramis chuckled softly as D'artagnan pulled himself out of his chair and fell onto his bed on his stomach next to Aramis. He hummed to himself as the weight was lifted off his back and crossed his arms under his head like a pillow. He sighed in contentment when Aramis lightly massaged the sore area until the knot that had formed there was unraveled. _

"_What were you working on in here before I heard that out of character cursing?" teased Aramis with a small hint of seriousness and concern in his voice. D'artagnan stiffened at first out of surprise at the priest's question, then sighed like a great weight had been set on his shoulders. _

"_It's nothing important Aramis." Aramis raised an eyebrow in an almost perfect imitation of Athos. _

"_It had to have been a little bit important if you're resorting to curses like that. Now what was it?" _

_D'artagnan laid there for a while grumbling to himself before pushing himself over onto his back so he could see his friend's face. _

"_I'm just having some trouble writing a letter to my parents is all. It's nothing to be concerned about." Aramis arched the same eyebrow higher in response. _

"_Is that so?" Before D'artagnan had a chance to respond Aramis had crossed over to the desk where D'artagnan had been writing and looked at the letter. D'artagnan had sat up when he saw Aramis jump to his feet but the priest already had the letter in his hand before D'artagnan could even get off the bed. Now he just sat there in silence, eyes to the floor as Aramis read his letter. He waited for the chastisement on his writing after several moments, but was surprised to hear something else._

"_Other than the fact that your writing is a little bit crooked, I am not seeing anything here that should indicate you having a problem writing a letter to your parents. Did you talk to a tutor or somebody else to help you out?" The boy shook his head._

"_The few that haven't been snatched up by the wealthy are charging more than we afford to feed ourselves in six months! How can they possibly demand that much of somebody else that's living with the same money issue as them?" he said, exasperated._

_Aramis chuckled, "They do have to feed their families as well D'artagnan." He set the letter down and walked over till he was in front of the boy. He squatted down, even from this height he was still about half an inch taller than D'artagnan, and looked him straight in the eye. "To learn how to do something takes courage to step out of that place you are most comfortable in D'artagnan. To put yourself out there to learn new things, and to keep going even when others are ridiculing you and cutting you down with their words. And it also requires you to do something else that takes more courage to do than anything else in the world," he placed his hand on D'artagnan's shoulder and squeezed it lightly, "to ask for help when you need it the most, even at the cost of your dignity and pride." _

_Having said that Aramis crossed over to the door and exited the room with a quiet click from the lock. Aramis' words floated around in D'artagnan's head as he lay on his bed for hours staring up at the ceiling. It was only when Porthos had bellowed his name from down in the kitchens for supper did D'artagnan move. He took one last look at the letter in the flickering light from the slowly dying candle before blowing it out and heading downstairs to eat._  
_

D'artagnan smiled as he was brought back to the present.

He had asked Aramis that same night after Athos and Porthos had gone to bed to help him correct his handwriting where it needed to be. Aramis agreed and for weeks after that Aramis and him worked together every night after the other two had gone to bed. Some nights had ended with D'artagnan getting incredibly frustrated with himself, but with the patience of a saint Aramis would wait until he had finished venting, then he would calm the boy down and they would get back to work. There were some nights where they had worked well into the night when Athos would come downstairs and catch Aramis looking over some papers while D'artagnan was sleeping next to him on the table. After quietly barking at the priest for keeping the boy up so late Athos would put D'artagnan to bed and Aramis would retreat to his room with the papers from the night's lessons.

The lessons had finally paid off when Aramis helped D'artagnan write out the response letter to his father about coming to Paris, and that he had already found an amazing teacher to help him. Aramis had no facial expression when he saw the praising words on the page but the warmth in his eyes was all that D'artagnan needed to see that Aramis appreciated the sentiment.

"_So, are you finally getting the hang of it?"_ Aramis had asked him one evening as they shared a final cup of wine before they would head off to bed. D'artagnan had shrugged and said with a teasing grin.

"_I suppose, considering the teacher I have, that I'll get the hang of it by the time I'm thirty."_ The look Aramis sent him over the rim of his cup promised retribution the next time they sparred.

It was the next day after Aramis had showed him a complicated defensive maneuver during their practice with each other that D'artagnan gave him his answer. Aramis had asked him if D'artagnan understood and memorized the steps to execute the move properly, and the response answered more than just the present question.

"_Not quite yet, but nearly there."_


	6. Chapter 3 version 2

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

**AN: Hey everybody. Here's the final chapter to Reflection with Athos and D'artagnan as our closing stars. Enjoy.  
_**

Chapter 3:

D'artagnan sighed peacefully as the last of the sun's rays disappeared behind the buildings and the coolness of the evening began to settle in. He pulled his jacket on before settling back down on the roof to listen to the music that only the night life could bring. It was at moments like this that he was truly able to relax and feel at peace the most. No more thinking about the Cardinal's guards, missions, international enemies, the king, nothing at all. But of course when his mind is empty at times like this the faces of all the men he killed both before he became a member of the musketeers and after would flood his mind. They would taunt and tease him maliciously, hoping to drive him out of his mind with guilt and anxiety. It was these men that D'artagnan was able to easily ignore, but there was one person from D'artagnan's past that continued to haunt him to this day. Even though he had finally confronted the memory of this person two weeks ago, he would still get their memory popping up in the forefront of his mind. He thought back to the time when Athos had finally convinced him to break his shell of silence about his past.  
**_**

_D'artagnan sat up with a gasp, his body slick with sweat. Body shaking with tremors he looked around himself and saw that he was still in his bedroom in Paris; it did nothing to stop his thundering heart or his instincts telling him to run as far from the house as possible though. On shaking legs he pushed himself out of bed and splashed cold water on his face shivering in the exposed air as he looked in the mirror next to the bowl. His cheeks looked sunken in, his eyes were heavily dilated, and there were dark circles under said eyes from continuous sleepless nights. His face was paler than normal and his lips were bruised and scarred from biting them in his sleep to keep from screaming out loud. _

_He took shaky, uneven breaths as he tried to stop his trembling body to keep still. Visions of what had woke him up flashed through his mind and he hissed as he tried to force them back into the furthest corners of his mind. After several more breaths he managed to calm his body down just in time; soft footsteps down the hall were heading straight for his room. He dove back into his bed and pulled the blankets over him just as he heard the door to his room open slightly. He tried to keep his breath as even and calm as possible but it proved to be a challenge with his heart starting to race again. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until he heard the door close and the footsteps disappear down the hall again. He fell into an uneasy sleep as he prayed for the dreams not to come._

_It was warmer the next morning; the first sign that summer was almost upon them. It was still pleasantly cool enough to have a picnic or simply take a stroll around the city though without fear of the heat, and the city folk and off duty musketeers were taking full advantage of the weather._

_Except D'artagnan._

_He was certain the Aramis and Porthos were mingling amongst the women and wine while Athos was sitting in the corner of a tavern waiting to toss the drunks into the streets. As for Planchet the man was probably out shopping for food, so D'artagnan knew that he would have the house to himself for a few blessed hours at least. So it came as a complete surprise when he walked downstairs to see Athos sitting at the table nursing a cup on wine, the bottle half empty on the table._

"_It is not even noon yet, and you're already going for the hard stuff?" He teased good-naturedly as he retrieved his breakfast form the oven where Planchet had stored it to stay warm. Athos snorted and leveled a look at his younger companion._

"_It is not even noon yet, and you're already acting like a smartass?" _

"_Of course," D'artagnan quipped back, "the day is not complete unless I have either done something potentially stupid or dangerous or acted like a smartass."_

_Athos grunted in agreement before taking a drink of his wine. D'artagnan gave the man a smirk as he returned his attention to his cooling breakfast. They passed the time in companionable silence while D'artagnan ate his breakfast and tried to focus his thoughts on the errands and tasks he had set for himself that day while Athos continued to drink the bottle of wine. He wasn't on duty today, thank God, but he needed to be doing something productive and busy to keep his mind off of the nightmares from the night before. It was only when D'artagnan got up to clean his dishes that Athos finally spoke up._

"_In the past twenty years that I have been a musketeer I have seen a lot of things D'artagnan. War, bloodshed, grief…things that no one should ever have to see. Especially not the tears of parents when a fellow musketeer has to tell them that their son had been killed in battle or in the streets from an enemy." Athos stopped to take a drink from the wine bottle. He continued to speak in the direction of the fireplace but he could see the tenseness in the boy's back that indicated he was listening. "One of the men I worked with in the past became insomnic because he was plagued by nightmares of his past. Small ones at first, but they eventually grew in length and viciousness. When he first brushed off help from the other musketeers, we thought nothing of it. We backed off and let him have his space. Then his insomnia started to affect his duties as a musketeer and his fighting. He began showing up late for guard duty, he never paid attention during training and spars, and on more than one occasion he had dropped his guard and was beaten by groups of the Cardinal's guards. But again, he brushed off all offers of help from the other musketeers. It finally got the point where Monsieur Treville had to take the man off active duty." Athos took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The air began to tense as Athos spoke again, his words forced and ragged. "He fell into a deep depression after that and his health began to rapidly decline. His drinking began to worsen as well; sometimes we would find him passed out in the street, or in the alleys or taverns with ten or more bottles around him. It was after the third time someone from the musketeers found him like this that Monsieur Treville assigned a few of us to watch him." Athos stopped as his words began to choke in his throat. He took several deep breaths to control his emotions and calm himself. When he spoke again his voice was flat and devoid of all emotions._

"_One night the guards who were assigned to watch him decided to shirk their duties. They went out drinking and got distracted by the women and food, and were gone for hours. It was only on their way back home that they decided to check on who they were supposed to be guarding." Athos drank a whole cup of wine in one gulp before continuing, his voice steady and emotionless. "They found him hanging from the rafters by his belt in full musketeer uniform. His nightmares had pushed him over the edge; he was so far gone that he had chosen death to escape from them and not one of us had even noticed." Athos let out a bitter laugh. D'artagnan shuddered at the scorn and self-disgust laced in it. "The musketeer's corp claims that we all look out for one another, that we are all brothers and family to one another. But how can we call ourselves that? How the hell can we hope to defend our king and country when we are so inept that we cannot even take care of one of our own?" Athos let out a great sigh that seemed to come from every part of his body. He grabbed the bottle of wine and downed the rest of its contents in one gulp. "The dressing down my partner and I got that night D'artagnan," he said ignoring the quiet gasp from the boy, "and the day after the funeral is the same speech that Monsieur Treville gives to the new recruits when they become musketeers; you will hear him tell it to you and others when you finish your probation." Athos got to his feet still staring at the fireplace, but D'artagnan knew that Athos was speaking to him directly this time. _

"_Because of my foolishness and selfishness, one of the greatest men to ever fight for the king was killed because neither I, nor anyone else, pushed to become the rock that he needed to help balance himself again. We did not help him like we were supposed to, and I will be _damned_ if I make the same mistake again twice!"_

_Without another word Athos donned his hat and cloak and swept out the door without a backward glance. It was only when D'artagnan heard Athos' horse disappear that he broke down in quiet sobs full of remorse and pain. Whether the tears were for himself or Athos he didn't know. He was found an hour later by Planchet curled on the floor in the corner, dried tear tracks on his cheeks and a far off look in his very red eyes. Brushing off the servants frantic worrying D'artagnan strode out of the house and saddled up Buttercup; he was out of the stables and down the road by the time Planchet got outside._

_D'artagnan rode Buttercup to just outside the city limits before turning onto a path that would take him into the trees. The woods were small but they provided incredible privacy and shelter for others to hide in. D'artagnan pulled Buttercup to a stop near a stream and let her enjoy the grass while he sat nearby, the conversation with Athos earlier pushing itself to the forefront of his mind. My God, did this incident partly contribute to Athos' character today along with Milady? And why did Athos tell him such a story anyway? His nightmares had nowhere near the terror of what this man had dreamt of to cause him to hang himself; they were small ones anyway. _

'_Ah, but you do not know that for sure,' said a nasty voice in his head. 'That's possibly what that other musketeer said about his nightmares at first. And just look at where he is now.' D'artagnan winced as he pushed the voice away._

_Then Athos' final words came to mind: _"We did not help him like we were supposed to, and I will be damned if I make the same mistake again twice!"

_D'artagnan sighed heavily as he buried his head in his arms. Then he chuckled. Athos would not be considered somebody who was an expert when it came to expressing himself. But he was definitely considered somebody who knew how to get his point across, even in the most backhanded way. But that was Athos though; it was just another part of his character. D'artagnan stayed out by that stream all day, the errands and tasks he had set himself to do long forgotten. Only when the sun had gone completely down did D'artagnan retrieve Buttercup and head back home.  
_**_**

D'artagnan remembered arriving back home to find the house empty; the others were probably out looking for him. Too tired to stay up for them he had left a note saying what time he got in and went to bed. He stayed in bed all day the following morning, too lost in his thoughts when Planchet would ask him if he wanted food or when the others visited him. He knew that he was worrying them, but he needed to get his head on straight.

It was well into the evening before D'artagnan finally came downstairs. He found Athos sitting by the fire with a cup of wine on the table. The two of them said nothing for a long time as they sat there looking at the fire. It was only after Athos had finished the bottle of wine on the table that D'artagnan spoke about his nightmares. The two of them sat up all night talking, Athos having to open up a new bottle of wine for the two of them halfway through the night. Aramis and Porthos came down for breakfast the next morning just as D'artagnan finished speaking to Athos. He assured the both of them that he was fine and apologized for worrying them all before heading upstairs to get some sleep before his guard shift. **_**

"Lad!" D'artagnan sat up in surprise and peered over the ledge of the building. Porthos was at the bottom with his hands cupped over his mouth. "Are you going to join us for dinner or turn crazy from staring at the moon?!" D'artagnan smiled cheekily; he couldn't resist a challenge like that.

"It is too late for me to turn crazy; my sanity was already gone after living with you three for a month!" Porthos' response was to do the most mature thing anybody could do after a quip like that; he stuck his tongue out at the boy and pouted. D'artagnan laughed at the older man and slid down to the edge of the roof where he had tied some rope around one of the chimneys. Gripping it tightly in his hands he slid down the side of the three story building to land next to Porthos.

"If Athos saw you doing that lad he would have both of our hides," said the older musketeer as he watched D'artagnan tie the rope around a beam in a tight knot.

"No, just yours; he likes me too much," said D'artagnan with a smirk as Porthos pulled the boy into a headlock. The two of them walked into the house to be greeted by Planchet's delicious cooking and their other comrades already sitting at the table. The four of them sat around the table for hours eating dinner and telling stories. D'artagnan smiled as he took in the warm atmosphere and flushed the tiniest bit when the others welcomed him home from his finished mission the previous night. _'Yes,' _D'artagnan thought to himself as he took in the dysfunctional members of his new family, _'It is good to be home.'_

**Well ya'll? Love it? Hate it? Like it? Wipe your ass with it? Let me know!**


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